At dinner last night, James and I were discussing how, aside from the terrible reason why the quarantine exists, we actually are quite at peace with our new rhythm. Being blessed with a large house, a big backyard and conservation land behind us certainly contributes. I have a good friend who is a single mom with her 12 year old son and 4 year old daughter in a one-bedroom apartment. While they do the best they can, she expresses often how challenging it is to be on top of each other all the time.
Other than James weekly trip for groceries and our weekly game of Car-dines, we really don't leave the neighbourhood. We have now made 3 birthday runs (where we drive over to the celebrant's home, honk loudly, hang out "Bonne fete" sign out the window and shout best wishes as loudly as we can). Juliette talks non-stop about her birthday coming up in June, alternating between being distraught to have to celebrate in quarantine, and excited to plan in case it's over. A birthday in quarantine for a child certainly must feel like a tragedy. A whole year is entirely too long to wait for another birthday. We will likely designate a second birthday for Juliette if necessary, but something tells me it just won't be the same.
This week has been filled new-found pastimes and much creativity. Caleb and Ben have created two dozen flip books - hand drawn animations full of baseball pitchers and ninjas and curly lines and bouncing balls. Juliette is leading her two cousins, Sienna and Kendall, in forming a band. They have been hard at work writing songs, planning outfits, selling out concerts, building props and sets, and all around dreaming as a 7 year old does. Colin has created a new YouTube channel with original animations and artwork, aimed at telling funny anecdotes and stories.
Ben, Juliette and I decided to explore further in the conservation land behind us, only to discover that it is actually private land when we happened upon the owner. Nerves quickly gave way to cabin-fever as we let our desire for human connection and conversation melt away the fear created by the current situation. As his two daughter and my two children romped in the fresh spring and chatted with their chickens, our new found neighbours shared the short version of the story of their lives. They are two characters worthy of a beautiful little Swedish short story. (Swedish, I write, because currently I'm reading my second Swedish novel that has such a beautiful way of telling a story about characters who have an unusual spark to them.) As always happens in the Orangeville and surrounding area, we discovered a connection (their daughters attend the school James teaches at, and their oldest will be in grade 3 next year - having a 50/50 chance of being in James' classroom).
In a time of repetitive routines, small pleasures have gained great value. Yesterday during movie night, our doorbell rang. It took a minute for the sound to register before we all jumped up. As we opened the door, we saw two girls from our best friends, the Lalondes, standing there awkwardly. This is a family with whom we never use the doorbell, and only really knock to announce that we are opening the door and entering anyway. They held out a package and two brightly painted rocks. We held out our hands, and then, as the current situation dictates, we both awkwardly stepped back. "Here," they said quickly, and put it down on the step. We reached out to gather the gifts. "Wait!" I shouted and rushed to find a Harry Potter puzzle we had finished and knew they would enjoy. The same strange exchange ensued, me placing the puzzle like an offering to a king and them snatching it up. We thanked them and closed the door, wondering where their car was as they walked away. We then heard a strange knocking on the back windows, and another peek out the door revealed their youngest daughter staring from behind a tree. A text later in the evening revealed that there had been some sort of plan evolving in the car on the way over to knock on windows and scare us, but the timing of everything had fallen apart. What is amazing is the pure delight we felt from the gift, the surprise, and the comedy of it all. Small pleasures with great value.
All four children have declared that if they could only see their friends now and then, they actually much prefer this new lifestyle. There is little grumbling from the older two about schoolwork as they diligently and independently complete their tasks. Caleb says he absolutely loves this new format and is not looking forward to spending 6 1/2 hours a day at school and losing the time he has found to develop his own interests and talents. Colin is a take-it-or-leave-it kind of kid. When he has a passion, he's very focused and driven. I would love to find for him an adult mentor/teacher who inspires him even further. Ben would rather give up school altogether. He's a smart kid who loves to learn but again, driven toward his own interests. I think a big outdoor project would be the perfect curriculum for him. Juliette is more of a mystery. She is smart as a whip and is the kid who always has her hand up first in class to answer the question. She is blowing our minds every time she takes a turn to read from scripture: there's barely a word that stumps her even in the old English language. The work she is getting from her teacher is easy and boring. She understands new concepts really quickly. But I don't see a natural affinity for learning like I do in the other three boys. Ironically, the one child I have who really thrives in the public school format actually doesn't seem to desire the fruit of education yet.
The most strange thing to see when we do venture out in the car is to observe the neatly spaced lines of people standing outside grocery stores and banks. Limits on the numbers of people allowed inside mean that you must cue up outside, spaced 6 feet apart, and wait for your turn to enter. James doesn't have the patience or time to wait (I would have even less) and so we don't engage. But it does feel like something out of a sci-fi movie or dystopian short story. Canadians are notoriously patient people, and Orangeville during the quarantine is no exception. People seem to accept the requirement to shiver in the cold April wind, appropriately distanced from each other.
Again, I feel the need to reiterate that it all feels just a fraction off of normal. I'm not sure if living history always feels this way, that it's just regular life for us. I wonder if when my great grandchildren ask me one day about living through the quarantine, I'll shrug my shoulders and say there wasn't much to it.
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